Before the Storm
by itsjustalice
Summary: They had always been the hunted, but it never been like this. AU. Takes place during the "Fugitives".


A thick static buzzed in Max's ear as she looked up at the clouds. They were swollen, monstrous things that hung low in the sky, their dark gray color casted a nasty shadow on the small rural area they were flying high above. A storm was rolling in, and quickly. Max never did enjoy flying in storms. It was dangerous, and the strong winds would toss the flock around like ragdolls. They had made the mistake of flying during a gale once, and it wasn't a mistake any of them wanted to make again.

"We'll need to land soon," she bellowed down to the dark figure beneath her, swerving her head as she made sure the others weren't too far behind. They were lagging more than usual. Even without the turbulent conditions of the storm, they would have needed to go _terra firma_ soon.

Fang looked up with a nod, and pointed to a close by clearing. It was hard to talk while flying. The sound of their wings beating against the wind would often muffle their cries, and the undercurrent tended to carry their words away from whom they were shouting at.

The clearing wouldn't exactly have been her first choice of landing, but sometimes they didn't have the luxury to pick and choose. Max angled herself in preparation to land, but a sudden gust of wind knocked her off course. She let out a silent huff before correcting her posture. She needed to keep her head held high in front of the flock, especially after her and Fang's little squabble.

"Are you alright?" Fang asked as Max finished her landing in the center of the flock.

She wiped away the bugs that had caught on her shirt and hair and gave a phony grin. "Of course," she replied with a cocked eyebrow. "Are you?"

Fang only smiled.

Max turned her attention next to Angel, who definitely did _not_ look alright. Even looking past the scratches and unruly, matted hair Angel seemed tired and ready to collapse. They had done a lot of flying, which one had to get used to when you were on the run.

The Gasman and Nudge didn't looked much better. They tried to cover up their weariness with perky grins like the older kids, but it was obvious they felt even worse than Angel.

Iggy and Total, who was held sloppily in the blind boy's arms, didn't even bother to cover up their frustration. "When are we going to eat?" Iggy wondered aloud right as Total asked, "Where are we going to stay?"

Trying to remember the layout of the land Max gestured to her right. "I think I saw a backpacker's inn not too far by." She twisted a curl of dirty blond hair. "It won't be _The Four Seasons_ but it'll at least get us out of the storm."

"I don't care we go," Iggy said aloud. "As long as they have something edible. When was the last time we ate? Like three days ago?" The others agreed voicing their own opinions of their hunger.

Fang looked at the flock seriously. "They'll have something to eat. And if not, we'll just have to wait it out till morning or hope someone will be kind enough to give us their scraps." He turned towards Max eying her pockets. "How much money do you think we have?"

Max fingered her jeans nervously. "Not a lot," she muttered. "Probably only enough to rent us a room for the night." _Not nearly enough to get us a less-then-decent meal, _she thought sourly.

"Guess you'll have to put on your dancing shoes," Iggy sighed looking at Gazzy.

"Or we could go dumpster diving at _Cici's_ again," Nudge offered. "Did you _see_ how much pizza they were throwing away?" She closed her eyes remembering the gold mine of dumpsters they had happened to stumble upon one night in New York.

Total chuckled at the memory. "It sure did taste like gourmet cooking after all that other trash we had to eat."

Max sighed as she felt the first drop of rain on her nose. As much as she would have loved to sit there and reminisce about their past dinners, they needed to go find a place to stay quickly. The gusts of wind were already whipping her hair into frenzy. Fang seemed to have sensed her annoyance and coughed loudly. "We can talk food later," he said, with an air of leadership. Max began to wonder when he had assumed control of the flock in the first place "Shelter first," he said firmly walking in the direction Max had motioned to a moment before.

The flock followed wearily, tucking their wings in. It was uncomfortable, and if you squinted and stared you could see the slight lumps under their shirts, but it was the only way. Unless, of course, they wanted to expose themselves to the public, which they – meaning Max and Fang – had decided was not the best of ideas.

"Almost there," Max urged looking worriedly at Angel's sagging posture. The rickety old motel came into view and Max grimaced. Hopefully, they wouldn't run into too much trouble. "Keep your heads low" she warned.

"And your mouths shut," Fang added under his breath.

The clerk looked up at them curiously as they entered. "No parents?" He asked warily eying the small children behind Max.

Fang and Max both shook their heads. "They'll be coming shortly," shed lied. "They just wanted to grab some extra just-in-case-supplies at the supermarket."

"We're holding a room for them," Fang added sliding out a couple of crumpled bills. Max was about to ask where and when he had obtained the cash, but knew that was probably a discussion for another time.

The clerk looked at all of us individually. "Adopted?" He supposed.

Max nodded. "Can we get our room now?" She didn't want to sound impatient, but she hadn't been expecting an interrogation. Surely there were shadier characters that passed by.

With a loud sigh that made it obvious the clerk was handing the room over in all reluctance, he dropped the key on the counter. "I'll be expecting your parents soon."

Max laughed, the force of air scarping against her throat. "That out to be _lovely_."


End file.
